


Illumination

by AEpixie7



Series: Ineffable Bureaucracy [23]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angel Beelzebub (Good Omens), Angel Lucifer, Emotional Manipulation, Friendships Ending, Gen, How Do I Tag, Lots of hurt very little comfort, Lucifer Was Samael, Misunderstandings, Pre-Fall (Good Omens), Sad Ending, War in Heaven (Good Omens), Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25798777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AEpixie7/pseuds/AEpixie7
Summary: The long awaited pre-fall update! A glimpse into Michael's memories of what lead up to and contributed to the war in Heaven.
Relationships: Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Bureaucracy [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1437652
Comments: 21
Kudos: 41





	Illumination

**Author's Note:**

> Look this prob could have been its own fic, okay. I tried to condense it in a way that fit it all into one update, so I hope it's not too jarring to keep jumping from memory to memory. These are all Michael's memories, so of course this is just following Michael's thoughts and actions leading up to the rebellion.
> 
> ***POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNING***  
> I am not tagging this deadnaming, because Lucifer's decision to change his name from the one he was given as an angel is not exactly the same thing. However, because Michael does not understand his motives, she refuses to call him by his chosen name.

Michael's arm trembles at the contact against her sword, the blade's flames erupting with her fury and licking at her brow. Sweat drips along the edge of her golden-flecked cheeks, and she grunts as she's thrown to the ground. She smiles even as her opponent circles, spinning his blade playfully and running a hand through his hair, black as the still starless night. 

“You've improved, Samael,” Michael says, her body still as any that had never felt a heartbeat. Her eyes follow the circling angel, carefully marking the grip of his hand around the hilt of his flaming sword, the slight tip of his wings, the way his weight settles in the balls of his feet. 

“Improved enough to best even the Warrior Angel?” he teases, surging forward in exactly the direction Michael had anticipated. She scurries backwards and parries his strike, using the broad side of her sword to singe the back of Samael's hand. He hisses in pain and drops his sword, and within the next unneeded breath, Michael rolls and kicks his feet out from under him, pinning him to the ground with both swords crossed just beneath his chin. 

“Nice try. But no.” 

Samael's grey eyes are alight with the reflection of flames. Subdued, but not extinguished. 

He holds up his hands in surrender, and nods at Michael to acknowledge her victory. She extinguishes the flames of both blades with a thought, flourishing them out to her sides as she puffs her chest triumphantly. Samael squirms underneath her, but she doesn’t budge. 

“Oi. You won alright, now let me up!” Samael whines, before sitting up and planting his palm over Michael's face and shoving her off with a giggle. Michael laughs as she crawls to her feet and offers her hand down to Samael, which he accepts and hops lithely to his feet. He readjusts his white robes and rolls his shoulders, stifling another giggle as he points sheepishly at her hair. She reaches up to touch it, and huffs an annoyed breath when she finds her warrior's braid pulled loose and unkempt from their friendly tussle. 

“Now look what you've done, Samael!” she grumbles, shoving the swords into Samael's hands as she fusses with her hair. “This will take Zadkiel forever to fix!” 

Samael chuckles at her and miracles their weapons away to the armory. “Don’t be such a cherub, just fix it yourself,” he teases, receiving a poke to the ribs in response. 

“You know I can't, not with these callused hands. Hers are the hands of an artist, and alas, mine were made for the sword. Now come with me, Lightbringer. You did the damage, now you must sit through the repairs.” 

Samael cocks an eyebrow at her, but says nothing as Michael grabs his arm and drags him along, her hand eventually drifting down into his. They make their way to the sample garden in Heaven, where Uriel's floral creations await approval from the Almighty. The space is full of bright blossoms and lush greenery, though the lack of breeze makes it eerily quiet. The only sound is a soft buzzing, that of tiny wings, and the hum of their creator. The small angel stands engrossed in her work, her lowest of three sets of wings draped lazily against the foggy white floor. She cradles a tiny creature in the palm of her hand, as her fingertips glow and twitch with the finishing touches. 

Michael stops and watches her for a moment, smiling fondly as the angel bites her tongue in concentration, and jerks her head to try and move her fluffy black bangs out of her eyes. The creature in her hand begins to wriggle, and she squeaks excitedly at her success. Samael chuckles at her, and the angel’s head snaps up in surprise. Her golden freckles shimmer when she smiles. 

“Michael! Samael! I didn’t hear you come in,” she says, tucking her new creation up into the feathers of her primary wings. 

“Forgive me Zadkiel, but when you’re concentrating on your little creations, I don’t think you’d notice if I decided to forge myself a new sword in here,” Michael teases as she approaches, and Zadkiel blushes, before a look of shock settles in her pale blue eyes. 

“What has happened to your hair, Michael?!” Zadkiel chides, and Michael levels Samael with a glare. 

“ _This one_ happened,” she says, and Samael's lips curve up into a mischievous smile as he wanders to a patch of plants and snaps his fingers, the vines and wide leaves weaving themselves into a hammock at his will that he plops himself into. Both Zadkiel and Michael roll their eyes at him, before Zadkiel motions for Michael to sit in front of her. Zadkiel inspects the many loose tendrils of Michael's hair and makes a _tsk_ at Samael. He smiles wider and ignores her glare, wiggling comfortably in his hammock and reaching back toward a nearby bush. He plucks a small indigo fruit from its branches and pops it into his mouth, humming in appreciation. 

“That’s disgusting, Samael! You know these things are being created for the humans, they’re not for us!” Michael berates him in a motherly tone. 

“Nothing wrong with a little wonder at the Lord's creation. And who says we can’t enjoy it too? We were here first, anyhow,” he says playfully, popping another berry into his mouth and purposefully smiling with its dark juices covering his teeth. Michael blanches and squirms. 

“Really, Michael, you should try it before you pass judgement,” Samael says, making an obvious show of licking the berry juice from his thumb. Zadkiel speaks before Michael can. 

“If you like those s-so much, wait until you taste what these little ones are capable of creating,” she chimes, tipping her head back toward the new creature clinging to her wing—a fuzzy yellow and black striped thing. Samael lights up at the promise. 

“Don’t encourage him, Z,” Michael growls. Zadkiel and Samael share a knowing smile. 

“For what it's worth, I still think the butterflies are your best work,” Samael says, glancing around and locating a cocoon hanging from a leaf nearby, his finger hovering just beneath it as he stares at it in quiet fascination. “For a creature to suffer its own destruction… only to emerge something entirely different…” 

“It’s not destruction, Samael, it’s… rebirth. Metamorphosis. To become what they are meant to be, they… must leave behind what they were.” 

“Beautiful…” Samael mumbles absently, his eyes trained on the cocoon dangling before him. He seems to recognize the way Michael and Zadkiel are watching him, and he clears his throat, settling back into his hammock. 

“So!” he barks, leaning forward in his hammock and attempting to divert the conversation. “How goes your new job, Z? Co-chief of the Order of the Shinanim. Quite an honor. And working side-by-side with the Archangel Gabriel…” he prods, clearly baiting a reaction from the smaller Archangel. She blushes once again and focuses far too much of her attention on Michael's hair. 

“I knew it. You favor him!” Samael exclaims, and Zadkiel turns as pink as the cherry blossom tree behind her. Michael turns her head to look up at Zadkiel, essentially pulling her half-completed braid out of Zadkiel's hands. Michael's jaw drops when she sees the color of pink that has filled Zadkiel’s cheeks. 

“Look what you’ve done, Samael, now I must s…s-start over!” Zadkiel complains, both hands clapping over Michael's ears and forcing her to look forward, if only to avoid her scandalized stare. 

“No, no, you don’t get to just flit away from this topic like one of your skittish little insects. You've got eyes for the Messenger, don’t you?!” Samael asks excitedly, leaning so far forward in his hammock that it threatens to tip over. 

Zadkiel makes several unintelligible noises as she busies herself with untangling Michael's braid, before she chokes out a response. 

“I do not _favor_ him Samael, favoritism is unbecoming of an angel.” 

Samael reels in his catch just a bit further. “But you think he's beautiful.” 

Zadkiel yanks a few sections of Michael's hair back to begin reworking her braid, and a hushed “ _ow!_ ” and “ _sorry_ ” are exchanged. 

“All of God's angels are beautiful,” Zadkiel affirms with thinly constructed confidence. 

“But Gabriel is beautiful to you in a way that no other angel is, is he not?” 

“I… that’s… well he… I'm not s-supposed to…” Zadkiel stutters, and Michael can feel her fingers trembling against her scalp. 

“Samael, really,” Michael chastises him. “Stop pestering the poor thing! Why must you always ask so many questions? Can’t you just let it be? You're making the poor thing uncomfortable.” 

“I am the Lightbringer, Michael, I only wish to _illuminate,_ ” he emphasizes the word comically, watching as Michael rolls her eyes and Zadkiel continues painstakingly avoiding the topic. He swings his legs over the side of the hammock, and leans forward on his elbows, his fingers laced together as he scrutinizes Zadkiel. “Why uncomfortable? It's not favoritism, Z, it's a... preference. You're allowed to have preferences. You simply prefer to spend your time with Gabriel. What I want to know is... why?” 

Zadkiel's eyes flicker up at Samael before diving back into her task at hand. “What do you mean _why?_ I enjoy his company, that’s all,” she mumbles. 

“Oh come on, it's _Gabriel,_ the conversation can't be that fulfilling,” Samael taunts, and Michael reaches for a handful of berries within reach and throws them at him. He laughs and ducks, managing to catch a few in his hand before turning his attention back toward Zadkiel. 

“I'm just saying there must be some deeper reason why you're drawn to him. You, who prefers the solitude of a garden and the buzz of your insects over the bustle of angels and creation. What draws you to that angel specifically? You can't answer the question 'why do you enjoy his company' with 'I enjoy his company.' I want a real answer, Zadkiel. I want to know what makes that Archangel worthy of my friend. Because the way I see it, he's not good enough for you.” 

Michael and Zadkiel go still as they both realize the seriousness in Samael's gaze. Zadkiel stares back at him for a few breathless moments, eventually glancing down to run her fingers lovingly through the loose ends of Michael’s braid. 

“He's... my cocoon. Like the ones I've made for my butterflies. The way I feel in his arms, cradled in his wings. His soul resonates with mine. I feel... safe, like nothing exists outside the two of us. And... even when he has to let me go, I emerge stronger and more beautiful than I was before. You say he's not good enough for me, I say just the opposite. I am not good enough for him. But, I will be. He makes me better. We make each other better.” 

Samael's smile rivals the sun in its brightness. He pops a berry in his mouth and stands, approaching Zadkiel and tipping her chin up gently with his fingertips. “Now that, little one, is a good answer.” 

*** 

“Ow! For the love of all that's holy, Michael, be gentle!” Samael whines as Michael discards the preened feather that she's just plucked from his wing. “No wonder you don't braid your own hair, you’d have a squeaky head like Sandalphon…” he mutters under his breath, receiving a smack to the back of his head from Michael. 

“ _Don't be such a cherub,_ ” she jabs, and Samael's neck and shoulders burn red with his rising temper. He is about to make some sort of retort when Michael smooths her hand over the crest of his wing, her fingers dragging down through his feathers. He sighs and relaxes, his wing pushing back into her touch as he allows his words to fizzle in his throat. He rolls his neck and allows Michael to quietly groom his wings for a while. 

“Michael, what are we doing this for?” Samael asks, his voice just above a whisper. 

“Well because your wings look atrocious. Obviously.” 

Samael huffs in annoyance, ruffling his wings and tucking them against his back. 

“No. I mean…” he gestures vaguely around, then flops his hand dejectedly down onto his thigh. “All of it. Earth. Creation. What are we doing it for?” 

“What do you mean? We’re doing it for the humans.” 

“Yes, but… why?” 

Michael scoffs. “Because the Almighty loves them and bade us love them as She does.” 

“You can’t _bid_ someone to love something. You can explain why they should, but you cannot _command_ love. And I just don’t see why the Almighty even wished to create the humans in the first place. Weren’t we enough? Aren’t angels the epitome of God's creation?” 

Michael struts quickly around in front of Samael and lowers herself in front of where he is kneeling, her hands urgently grasping his. “Samael, you mustn't speak this way. The Almighty knows and sees all. If She made humans after us then there must be a reason, and we are honored to be tasked with creating their world. Everything will be made clear one day, and until then it is our duty to humbly serve Her...” 

“Doesn’t it bother you though?!” Samael urges, scooting closer to Michael as his grey eyes flash like storm clouds. “To feel the blinding euphoria of your own creation, your all-encompassing love for your creator, only to be cast aside for Her latest diversion?” 

“Samael, _please_. Don’t speak like that, I don’t want to hear another word. You've felt God’s grace in your soul, how dare you second guess Her…” 

“Well excuse me, but She hasn’t exactly instilled much confidence in Her decisions. She bestowed Gabriel the rank of Seraphim. The Messenger, really?! She won’t even say what great message he will bear, just showers him with praise as if he's already won a prize for something he hasn’t even accomplished yet! And you! You are the Warrior angel. Why does God need warriors? Heaven is bliss, it's perfection and joy and light, what possible reason could the Almighty have for training angels to fight?!” 

“It is not my place to question…” 

“So you would blindly fight because She told you to? Are you truly prepared to do harm to anyone the Almighty deems an enemy? Would you cut me down if She told you to?” 

Michael tightens her grip on Samael's hands, tears spilling from her eyes and unneeded breaths dragging free of her throat. “Stop. Just stop, you're scaring me, Samael…” 

Samael is crying now too. “I’m just trying to understand, Michael. I am the Lightbringer. But how am I supposed to bring light when I was made to stand in God's shadow?” 

Michael tries to drag herself away from him, but he holds her tight. He pulls her into his embrace, his wings spreading out to his sides and beckoning her to open up to him. “Let me show you, Michael,” he pleads, and for the first time since she laid eyes on her beloved Samael, she recoils from him. 

“Please,” he begs, his aura caressing hers as all his vulnerabilities crumble into blinding sincerity. She relinquishes her walls, and chokes at the onslaught of emotions when her aura is consumed by his. Confusion, resentment, jealousy. They are a dark pit in his soul, their mass so great that even the tangential emotions around them are beginning to slide toward the darkness. His love for his friends warps into loneliness. His devotion to his purpose is faltering. And worst of all, his trust in God is poisoned with doubt. 

Michael knows she should reach out with her own aura, to try and heal the wounds in Samael's heart. To meet adversity with kindness and understanding, as every angel should. But she can’t. She is afraid. She shoves away from Samael and tumbles back onto the floor, her eyes wide and her body trembling. Samael hugs his arms around himself and sobs, his long black hair shadowing his features as he curls in on himself. “Michael, please help me,” he begs, voice cracking. 

Michael's hand twitches toward him, but she pulls it back. Even now, with her aura retracted, she can still see the darkness in him. Feel it pulsing from the confines of his body. She gasps and stands, her lungs laboring with her panic. She's never felt anything like this from an angel, doesn’t know how to handle it. 

But perhaps someone else does. 

“Samael, I… I’m not angry with you I just… need some time.” 

“Please don’t go Michael. I don’t know what’s happening to me…” 

Michael glances around for anyone who might have seen them, who might have witnessed anything. She sighs when she realizes they’re alone, and straightens herself. 

“I’ll be back, I just need to get my head around this. Speak to no one, do nothing until I get back,” Michael barks as she starts to walk briskly away. Samael grabs her hand and chokes on another sob. Michael feels an emptiness in her chest when she yanks her hand away. She sniffs against the stinging in her eyes and leaves him there. 

She heads straight for the garden, and sighs when she finds Gabriel hovering over Zadkiel. She had hoped Zadkiel would be alone, as this was bound to be a delicate conversation. But she can’t very well barge in and ask him to leave, technically Gabriel is her superior. She watches Gabriel tuck a bit of Zadkiel's hair behind her ear, the smaller Archangel giggling and clutching some sort of flower to her chest. Michael rallies her resolve and storms ahead. 

“Zadkiel, I need to speak with you. Now,” she says urgently as she approaches, and both Archangels turn toward her. Zadkiel is love struck and blushing radiance, blissfully unaware of Michael's pressing tone. 

“Michael! I’m glad you’re here, I wanted to show you this. Look, I made something. I know I’m not in charge of the flowers, Uriel is, but Gabriel loves them so I made him this. It’s called a lily.” 

Michael stops short, momentarily forgetting her purpose. “You… created something without permission?” she asks, her heart fluttering once again with worry. Why are all her friends subverting the Almighty's will?! 

“Well yes, but just look at it! Is... isn't it gorgeous? I’m sure Uriel won’t mind…” 

“Z, you can’t just create things without sticking to the schematics provided by the Almighty!” she scolds the Archangel, and Zadkiel deflates. Gabriel appears quickly by her side, scooping the flower from Zadkiel's hand and pinning it to the breast of his robes. 

“Michael, there's no need to be so harsh, anything created with good intentions cannot possibly offend the Almighty, can it?” he asks, and Zadkiel smiles brightly up at him. He strokes her wing behind her back and looks adoringly down at her. Normally Michael would be elated to witness such tenderness, but a sudden chill courses through her at the memory of what she'd seen in Samael, when she'd gotten so close as they are now. She feels an inexplicable need to shove Gabriel and Zadkiel away from each other. To protect them. 

“Fine, whatever, take it up with Uriel. Now please Z, I need to speak with you…” her eyes flicker up at Gabriel. “Privately.” 

Zadkiel's smile fades, and she glances back at Gabriel. “Gabriel is my partner and a Seraph of the Lord. Whatever you have to s-say, you can say in front of him.” 

Michael sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Alright. Seeing as we are all Archangels, I suppose this does involve all of us. But I implore you please… don’t discuss this with anyone.” 

“Michael, what's wrong?” Zadkiel asks and steps forward, her hand grazing Michael's arm to try and comfort her. Michael jerks away, then rubs her arm where Zadkiel had tried to touch her. She is acutely aware of how abnormal mistrust looks to an angel. 

“It’s Samael. Something's… wrong. He's talking nonsense. His soul feels… twisted. He's turning away from God's grace, questioning Her will. You know he's always been inquisitive but this feels different. This feels treacherous and I don’t know what to do…” 

“Oh no, not again,” Zadkiel mumbles and hurries from the garden, before whipping around to face Michael, who is already speaking. 

“ _Again?_ What do you mean again?!” 

Zadkiel ignores the question. “Where is he?” 

“The overlook. I was grooming his wings but… Z what do you mean _again?_ ” Michael urges but Zadkiel is already scuttling quickly away, several of her insect friends jostled loose from her wings and buzzing around to follow her. Michael looks to Gabriel for an explanation but he simply shrugs. So helpful. 

She hurries after Zadkiel, and nearly runs smack into her back when Zadkiel comes to an abrupt halt at the edge of the overlook. Michael is about to fuss at her but stops when she follows Zadkiel's line of sight. Samael is still huddled on the floor of the big empty room, the diffuse light of the overlook bouncing off his trembling wings. Michael's heart drops when she realizes he's still crying. She should have stayed with him. She shouldn’t have run away. That’s her dear friend in there, he’s hurting, and she abandoned him. 

Zadkiel turns and speaks softly. “I know what has to be done. I understand why it startled you, Michael. Just… give me some time with him.” 

Michael nods and takes a deep breath to try and calm herself, remaining far enough from the overlook to give them space. Zadkiel approaches Samael and kneels before him, her hand reaching for him and her Seraphim wings spreading out on all sides. 

Michael chews her nails as she watches, shifting her weight nervously and fluttering her wings behind her back. Gabriel approaches her side, and she can feel his amethyst eyes scrutinizing her. She knows she looks crazy—angels are supposed to be graceful, poised, and tranquil. Her nervous twitching and nail-biting is obviously abnormal behavior, but she can’t help it. It feels as if even that slight exposure to the malignant energy within Samael has tainted her. She feels _unclean_. 

She gasps when a blinding burst of Holy energy envelopes her, and places a hand over her heart. She recognizes the aura as Gabriel's, and glances wide-eyed at him. Had he given her the choice, she would have told him to keep his aura to himself—after the incident with Samael, she is far too nervous to open up to anyone… but Gabriel’s aura is pulsing with pure light and joy. She can feel his unwavering love for Zadkiel and for God, and it soothes her soul. She can’t bring herself to be angry with him, especially with that radiant smile gracing his handsome features. 

“My apologies for the intrusion. You looked like you could use some comfort,” Gabriel says quietly, his hand reaching out to allow one of Zadkiel's little red and black spotted insects that’s remained buzzing around him to land in his palm. Michael's nerves are finally starting to settle, and she's beginning to see what Zadkiel finds so alluring about Gabriel. She hasn't spent much time with the Messenger, but his presence is reassuring. He is a gentle soul. 

“Thank you, Gabriel,” Michael says earnestly, approaching him and admiring the creature in his hand. She rests her fingertip in front of the little thing, allowing it to crawl into her fingernail. She smiles down at it, before depositing it gently onto the flower pinned to Gabriel's robes. Its petals are feather white, and at its center sprouts a heart of vibrant gold. She pinches a petal between her fingertips, lost in the sensation of its softness for a moment, and finally sighs. “I still don’t like that she broke the rules but… it is a very pretty flower.” 

The gold marks on Gabriel's shoulder glow softly, and he smirks. “I know.” 

Michael rolls her eyes at him, and allows her gaze to drift back toward the overlook. Her smile fades when she realizes Zadkiel has succeeded where she failed. Samael is cradled in her arms and wings, the golden marks around his hands glowing as he clings to her, their auras mingling and healing in Zadkiel’s strength. She soothes and rocks him gently, and Michael feels her own inadequacy weighing heavily on her heart. 

“You were scared for your friend, Michael. You did nothing wrong,” Gabriel says, his wing nudging reassuringly against hers. She hears him, but doesn’t respond. 

Samael and Zadkiel have separated and make their way slowly toward their friends, Samael glowing with renewed strength. Zadkiel's golden marks, however, seem dimmer than before. 

“Apologies, Michael,” Samael says with a bright smile, his hands grasping her upper arms. Her body wants to react, but his grip is strong. There is not a trace of the darkness in his aura, but Michael can’t seem to relax, now that she has seen what he is capable of becoming. 

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he says, his smile slowly fading when he realizes she hasn’t softened. She reaches up tentatively to cup his cheek, her eyes searching his. Not a trace of the storm she saw in them earlier. He leans into her touch, and she wants to cry. _This_ is the Samael she knows. 

“Are you sure you're alright, love?” she whispers, and he reaches up to cover her hand with his. The angelic marks on his hands illuminate, revealing an electric pattern that extends fully to his fingertips, which are pulsing with warmth and grace. He closes his hand around hers and pulls it to his lips, so she can feel the truth of his words when he speaks against her skin. 

“I am now,” he speaks softly, giving her a hopeful grin, which she tentatively returns. 

“Samael, what was that? And why haven’t you told me it’s happened before?” she asks, her thumb caressing his knuckles and enjoying the warmth of his marks. He brushes off the question with a dismissive smile. 

“Being the Lightbringer can be blinding sometimes. I don’t blame you for the way you reacted, Michael. You’re the Warrior. You meet adversity with strength and piety. But you knew Z could help, and I thank you for that. Her benevolence knows no bounds. Isn’t that right, Z?” he turns to her, but she seems dazed and unfocused. Samael nudges her side, and she shakes herself out of it. 

“Hm. Yes, of course, Samael. I’m glad you’re alright,” she says, though her voice seems hoarse. Her eyes are red and her golden marks still have yet to regain their luster. 

Samael’s eyes sparkle. “Never better.” 

*** 

“Michael, you’ve been avoiding me.” 

“I most certainly have not, Samael, don’t be daft. I do have work to do, you know.” 

“Yes, I’m sure stomping around third heaven and glaring at the Principalities keeps you very busy.” 

“I don’t do that, either, Sam, and I don’t appreciate the insinuation...” 

Michael’s mouth snaps shut when Samael catches up to her and grabs her upper arm, hard. She turns to face him, and although his aura is as bright and welcoming as ever, she feels a momentary panic when her eyes meet his. She can feel her corporation’s blood rushing to where his hand is clasped like a vice around her arm, and she glances down at it. Samael releases her, his shoulders and wings sinking slightly. 

“I... I’m sorry Michael. I just... wanted to make sure you were okay. I’ve... missed you.” 

Michael sighs and shifts uncomfortably. She wants to run away from him and embrace him, all at the same time. She has tried and tried again to banish the terror she feels simply being around him. She hates that she feels this way—Samael has always been so cherished to her, she just wants everything to go back to the way it was. But every time she pictures holding him, sharing auras with him, that fear roars in her subconscious. It makes her skin tingle at the nape of her neck, makes her wings twitch with a desire to escape. But she does miss him, more than she knows how to express… 

“Well, that’s not a good sign. Michael? Say something?” he asks, reaching out for her much more cautiously than before. Still, her body reacts without thinking, stepping back quickly out of his reach. He withdraws his hand and drops it to his side. 

“I understand,” he says, spreading his wings in preparation for flight. 

“Samael, wait…” 

She winces at the rush of wind, and blinks up into the light as his silhouette is swallowed up by the radiance of the upper heavens. A tear rolls over her golden flecked cheek. 

*** 

“He won’t speak to me,” Michael says absently as she swings her sword, cutting through the air in front of her. “He avoids me entirely. He won’t even _look_ at me!” she grumbles as she advances through the garden, twisting and slashing her sword at an invisible enemy, her attacks gaining in fervor with every word. 

“Well, to be fair, you _did_ avoid him first…” Zadkiel says from her position behind a seated Gabriel, her hands absently preening his wings. 

“What was I supposed to do?! You saw what was in his soul, Z! I’ve never felt anything like that from an angel! And the things he was saying, it was as if all the love of his friends, of the Almighty… it meant nothing to him!” 

She swings her sword with a grunt of frustration, accidentally beheading one of the lilies growing nearby. “Bugger.” 

Zadkiel watches the flower plop to the ground, arching an eyebrow at Michael's sheepish apologetic smile. Zadkiel removes her hands from Gabriel's wings and approaches the downed flower, picking it up and observing the clean cut to its stalk. 

“Michael, have you ever watched any of Uriel's flowers grow?” Zadkiel asks as she turns the lily softly in her hand. 

“I… what?” Michael stammers. 

“If you watch them for a while, you notice them changing. A flower that wilts is not receiving sufficient nutrients for its full potential. It may need more or less water, more or less sunlight…” 

“Z, please, what does any of this have to do with Samael?” 

“In order for me to help him, I must first seek to understand what is causing his anguish. If you stop and listen, what he needs is answers. Answers he can’t get from the Almighty…” 

“Because his questions are treason!” 

Zadkiel holds up a hand, effectively silencing Michael. “And if you yell at a flower and insist it can’t possibly need more water, do you think that will solve anything?” 

Michael huffs in annoyance and paces the garden, irritated by Zadkiel's approach but unable to refute it. 

“All of it stems from one singular inquiry—when does it stop? Where is the line? If God were to require something of us that we simply cannot, or _will not_ do… what then? Is blind loyalty really what the Almighty wants of us? And if so, why even give us the capacity to question at all? Why not make us mindless shells that carry out Her every command?” 

Gabriel has been listening quietly, and upon hearing Zadkiel’s words, he stands and approaches, his brow furrowed in contemplation. “Z… every time this happens, it takes a toll on you. You try and hide it, but we're sharing auras. I feel it. Please just… be careful. I can’t help but think he’s trying to pull you down the same path.” 

Zadkiel smiles sorrowfully down at the flower in her hand, before placing it in Gabriel's palm and closing his fingers around it. 

“We’re all on the same path, love. Samael only seeks to illuminate it before we take another step.” 

*** 

“I don’t like this Gabriel. Not one bit,” Michael complains as she paces, Gabriel leaning casually against a white polished pillar and nodding in agreement. 

“I know, Michael, I don’t like it either, but what more can we do? Zadkiel is the angel of mercy, it’s in her nature to accept and forgive. She’s doing everything she can to help Samael, and I admire that about her, even if it scares me what she’s doing.” 

“But it doesn’t seem to be working! Now this nonsense about changing his name?! What is that about?! Our names are the first gift ever bequeathed to us. We blink through the sheer blinding ecstasy of our own creation and the first thing we hear is our own name, put to voice by Our Lord God. If he turns away from even his name, what’s next?!” 

Gabriel winces but remains silent. Michael pauses to observe him a moment. He is still far too nonchalant about this. Of course, he didn’t see what was in Samael's soul. He doesn’t know what he's risking. She has to make him _see_. 

She takes the few steps toward him until she’s practically upon him, his lilac eyes widening when he feels her crackling energy. 

“Gabriel, I need you to understand. What I saw in Samael that day… it wasn’t just a wound in his aura that Zadkiel can smooth over. It was a black hole that swallowed up even the most beautiful things about him.” 

Gabriel straightened, his eyes flickering nervously. “Michael it sounds like… you believe Samael is beyond help.” 

“I didn’t say that. I love Samael, more than anything…” her voice cracks and her throat nearly closes up, but she pushes past the sting of tears in her eyes. “I just worry what all of this could do to Z. She’s such a kind soul and I fear how much she’s sacrificing the longer this drags on. You know her, she'd give the wings off her back to those she loves. What if she gives so much of herself away that she can no longer sustain herself?” 

Gabriel looks properly panicked now. Michael hates the way fear looks on his sweet face, but it is necessary that he understand the gravity of the situation. She reaches up to cup his cheek. “I cannot see what’s become of Samael's soul. He won’t let me near him anymore. But you can see into Zadkiel's. You said it yourself, what she's doing is weighing on her. You’ve felt it in her aura. What if he's trying to create others like him?” 

Gabriel's lip trembles and his eyes glisten with tears. “What can we do?” he whispers, and Michael pulls him into an embrace when she sees that kind of heartbreak in him. She pulls back and steels herself. 

“Make her forget. You can find the connections in her aura and break them. Make her forget everything she's seen in him, and perhaps we can stop this.” 

“That seems… wrong.” 

“I know. I don't like the idea any more than you do, but I don’t see another way. If you succeed, you would be saving her from the same anguish that is consuming Samael.” 

“But what about him?” 

“Leave that to me. I’ll… figure something out. Right now I'm more concerned about Z. Do you think you can do that for me, Gabriel?” 

Gabriel sighs and nods nervously, and she gives him a hopeful smile when she brushes his shoulder. 

She prays to God she's doing the right thing. 

*** 

Michael is startled out of her meditation and spins, stepping back in shock as Zadkiel fumes toward her. A swarm of tiny black insects buzzes around her, and when she stomps to a halt in front of Michael, a few of the creatures flit around Michael's face. She winces and tries to ignore them, her attention squarely focused on the red-faced Archangel in front of her. 

“If you have a problem with any of my actions, you come to _me_ , you understand?!” Zadkiel shouts, and only then does Michael see Gabriel slinking up sheepishly behind Zadkiel, eyes downcast. 

“Zadkiel, I meant no offence, I only thought that Gabriel…” 

“You _thought_ you could manipulate me! And what's worse, you used Gabriel to do it! You _scared him_ into doing what you want! How dare you do that to him, and to me!” 

Michael swats away a few of the black insects as they bump erratically into her face, their buzzing seeming to amplify with Zadkiel's rising temper. Zadkiel grabs Michael’s wrist and shoves her hand away from her insects. “Don’t touch my flies,” she warns. 

“Zadkiel, please understand, I know my judgement may have been... questionable, but I...” 

Zadkiel interrupts her. “This is exactly why Lucifer wants answers. You have no right...” 

“Lucifer?! You mean Samael.” 

“No, I mean Lucifer.” 

"His God-given name is Samael, he insults the Almighty by refusing it,” Michael argues, her face growing hot and her wings puffing up behind her back. 

“No, he insults himself by keeping it. He knows that Samael is not who he is meant to be, and if God gave him the ability to choose, it would be an injustice for him to refuse what he feels in his soul to be true. It’s as natural to him as it is to the butterflies, he only seeks to become something new...” 

“Enough! With the bugs!” Michael shouts, her wings spreading out to her sides as her golden marks begin to glow with Holy light. “He’s not an insect! He’s an angel, for God’s sake!” 

Zadkiel had startled at Michael’s sudden outburst, but now spreads all six of her wings, the buzz of her flies growing to a dull roar. “That’s what you don’t seem to understand, Michael. He doesn’t want to be an angel for God’s sake anymore. He wants to be an angel for his own sake. The Almighty owes us that much, at least.” 

“The Almighty gave us our very existence, She owes us nothing!” 

“She owes us answers. We didn’t ask to be made. We didn’t question when She chose to create the humans, as if Her beautiful angels were just some... failed experiment. We’re expected to build the humans’ world, to love them as She does, all the while singing Her praises for tossing us aside?! Lucifer sees Her for what She is. A cruel master who keeps us subservient...” 

Michael’s vision burns white with her outrage, and her body seems to act of its own accord. Before she can even realize what’s happening, she backhands Zadkiel across the face. Multiple angels nearby gasp, including Gabriel, who rushes forward, only to have Zadkiel step warily away from him. 

The fog of Michael’s anger fades quickly as she realizes what she’s done. “Oh, Z, I...” 

“You’re so certain of your purpose, Michael,” Zadkiel says quietly, her hand reaching up to rub her reddened cheek. “To fight your friends for God. Are you so sure it shouldn’t be the other way around?” 

*** 

Panic courses through Michael as she hurries toward the garden. Uriel had sounded properly alarmed when they came shouting at her that Gabriel had sent them for help, something was wrong with Zadkiel. She pushes off the ground and allows her wings to thrust hard once, throwing her the rest of the way toward the garden. She skids to a stop just inside the entrance, her eyes meeting Gabriel's. His eyes are ringed with tears as he cradles Zadkiel in his arms, her body entirely limp and lifeless. 

“You were right, Michael. She gave too much,” he cries, rocking her as he pulls her close to his chest. Michael rushes forward and kneels before both of them, her hand frantically pushing Zadkiel's hair away from her face. Her golden marks have lost so much of their luster, and her lips are pale. 

“What happened, Gabriel?” 

“We… were arguing. I’ve been trying to earn her trust back after… what we did and… she was just so angry. We're still sharing auras, we always have, and she… tried to throw me off. She said she has Lucifer now and she doesn’t…” he stumbles as his voice cracks. “She said she doesn’t need me anymore and when she tried to sever our bond, she collapsed. She’s been hiding the damage from me, but I can feel it now. It’s everywhere, Michael, he's… he’s tainted her,” Gabriel sobs and holds Zadkiel against him, his hand caressing her hair. Michael stands, Holy fury burning through her soul. 

“This has to stop.” 

Without a word she storms from the garden, throwing her aura as far out as she can and locating the energy signature she recognizes as Samael's. She follows it with blind conviction until she finds him… in the armory. 

“Samael!” she shouts as she advances on him. He is inspecting a blade and nonchalantly turns toward her, his expression inexplicably amused. 

“I’m sorry, there’s no one here by that name. Perhaps you should look in God's throne room, maybe you'll find him kissing Her feet.” 

Michael ignores the taunt. “Whatever you're doing to Zadkiel, it stops now.” 

“I'm not doing anything to her Michael, she's helping me. In the way that you couldn't. Remember?” 

The comment stings, but Michael pushes past it. “I don't think you need help.” 

Lucifer sets his blade down gently, folding his hands behind himself and turning to face Michael. “Is that so?” 

“I think you're beyond help. Z loves you, and you've tainted her good nature. You will stay away from her, do I make myself clear? I forbid it!” 

“You cannot command anything of me, or Zadkiel. We seek our own free will. And even if you could, I have all the other angels.” 

Michael blinks as her blood runs cold. “What?” 

Lucifer begins to pace the armory lazily, his hands still tucked innocently behind his back. 

“I'll be honest. It hurt, knowing I couldn't have you. The one angel I always thought would be by my side. But there are others who believe in my cause, who agree that we're being played. One by one, I showed them all the truth that lies inside me. See?” he gestures behind himself, and hundreds of angels emerge from the rows of weapons, all flanking Lucifer and looking scornfully down their noses at Michael. For the first time in her existence, she retreats slightly. 

“You’re too late for Zadkiel. She's already mine. And that moron Gabriel will follow her wherever she goes. So perhaps I can’t have you,” Lucifer drawls, sauntering toward Michael with a smile far too sinister for an angel. He stops in front of her, his hand reaching out to caress one of her primary feathers. The touch makes her shiver but she's too frozen by fear to move away. 

“But I will take _everyone else_.” 

*** 

“Thank you all for coming,” Michael announces as she approaches the pulpit, her fellow Archangels turning expectantly toward her. Gabriel settles by her side, though she can see in her periphery that his wings are hanging dejectedly behind him. 

“Shouldn’t we wait for Zadkiel and Lucifer?” Raphael asks, stepping forward. “This is a council of Archangels, is it not?” 

Michael sighs and shifts her weight, her eyes darting toward Gabriel. He had made his displeasure known about her plan to intentionally exclude the two missing Archangels, but had conceded when Michael insisted that she needed to address the Archangels without tempers flaring. 

“Well, that’s actually what I had hoped to discuss. This has the potential to cause a rift among all God's angels, and if left untreated I fear… we may have a confrontation on our hands.” 

“All the more reason to allow them to speak in their defense, Michael,” Raphael says sternly. 

The rest of the Archangels begin murmuring in agreement, and Michael raises her voice to try and contain them. 

“Listen to me, please! I didn’t include Samael…” 

“Lucifer,” Raphael corrects. 

Michael stops and sighs, begrudgingly correcting herself. “I didn’t include _Lucifer_ because there is much you don’t know. I’ve watched him slip down this slope. He’s taken Zadkiel with him and I’ve come to the conclusion that… he is dangerous.” 

Several Archangels erupt in protest, and they begin bickering among themselves. Gabriel sighs and turns toward Michael, his eyes darkened by grief. 

“I told you, Michael. This was a mistake. We should have just _talked_ to them. Excluding them from the council just… feels like betrayal.” 

“They both refuse to speak to us. What else can we do? The Archangels need to know…” 

“Tsk tsk, Michael,” a voice says quietly from the back of the room. Michael and the council quiet as they turn to find Lucifer strolling lazily around the group, Zadkiel close on his heels. Michael can sense Gabriel twitch beside her when he lays eyes on Zadkiel, but the smaller Archangel seems to be intentionally ignoring him. 

“Calling a meeting of the Archangels without me. I knew you could be ruthless in battle, but… conniving? Deceptive? I didn’t think those were traits possessed of an angel. And she calls _me_ dangerous,” Lucifer taunts, receiving hushed murmurs from the room. Michael's eyes dart around amongst her fellow Archangels, and she’s suddenly enveloped by an impending dread. She had assumed Samael had not reached the other Archangels yet, besides Zadkiel. From the scowls she’s receiving from a few of them, she may have assumed incorrectly. 

“I… I only wished to discuss our dispute without vitriol, I meant no offense, Samael…” 

“Oh I think you did!” Lucifer growls as he advances threateningly toward Michael. “You won’t even use my real name! If you won’t even concede that _one little piece_ of me, then there’s hardly any hope of reconciliation. But peaceful resolution never did compliment your purpose, now did it, Michael?” 

“That’s not… I'm sorry Lucifer, I…” Michael stammers, confusion and heartache cutting off her words. 

“I once asked you if you would cut me down simply because God told you to. Well perhaps we shall finally have our answer,” he snarls and spins quickly to face the Archangels, his wings reaching out to brush against them as he circles them. He comes to a halt opposite the room from Michael, his arms and wings outstretched. “I am Lucifer. I reject my purpose and I denounce my trust in our Lord, as she has proven Herself unworthy of such devotion. I demand answers, and I will cast aside any angel who stands in my way. Let us not hide behind council meetings, and wound each other in such despicable and underhanded ways. Stand behind the warrior you call your leader, and we will settle this. Now, Archangels. Choose.” 

Michael stands stunned for a moment, as do all of the Archangels. They are frozen as the promise of all-out war settles like a chill in the air. 

The rustle of feathers drags everyone out of their reverie, as Zadkiel approaches Lucifer’s side. Uriel scoffs and walks immediately to stand beside Michael. Gabriel steps forward quickly, hands held out cautiously as he approaches Lucifer. 

“Come now, you can’t be serious. This will not come to war, we are angels, we can settle this like angels, please,” his voice cracks and his eyes dart between the two sides as Raphael joins Lucifer, and Haniel joins Michael and Uriel. Lucifer levels Gabriel with a sinister glare, his hands tucked behind his back. 

“Choose, Archangel.” 

Gabriel's eyes begin to water, and he finally settles his gaze on Zadkiel. “Z please. This isn’t you. You're the angel of Mercy, for God's sake, you can’t…” 

Lucifer shoves Gabriel's chest, forcing him back several steps and backing him into a wall. “No one can tell her what she can and cannot do! Not anymore. Now choose!” 

Gabriel’s violet eyes slowly scour the line of angels belonging to Lucifer, then the one behind Michael. Tears drip from his chin and fall soundlessly to the heavenly floor. 

“No. I refuse. I love my God. And I love you, Z,” he whispers, addressing his partner directly and ignoring the Archangel looming over him. For the first time, Zadkiel's eyes flicker up to meet Gabriel's. Her lips tremble momentarily before she sniffs and turns away. 

Lucifer sneers at Gabriel, his head tilted as if inspecting some new creation in the garden whose survival is yet undetermined. 

“Refusing to make a choice is a choice in itself, Messenger.” He turns to face Michael, his grey eyes searing into her like a flaming sword. He doesn’t say another word, simply pivots to exit the council, all his supporters taking up stride behind him. All except Zadkiel. She remains, her eyes cast to the ground and her wings quivering. She trembles to contain some unknown plea, but Lucifer catches her before she can. 

“Come along Zadkiel. There is nothing left for you here,” he says quietly, and Zadkiel hesitates for only a moment, before tucking her Seraphim wings tightly against her back and vanishing behind Lucifer. 

*** 

Michael tries to carry herself confidently into the Almighty's throne room, though every step feels weighted by the heartbreak in her soul. She kneels and folds her hands over the hilt of her sword, her head bowed in reverence. For all intents and purposes, it appears as though the Almighty's throne is empty. Michael knows better. She clears her throat, but can feel the tremble that remains when she speaks. 

“Almighty Lord. Benevolent God. My trust in your judgement is resolute as ever. But… if I may beg of you…” 

She blinks up into the blinding light, tears pooling in her eyes. “Please. I need to know… is this really what you want? My sword, my body, my soul… they are yours if you wish it. I will fight for your cause, to protect what you have built, as my purpose ordained at the moment of my creation. Please just… tell me this is right. Please,” she cries, the light rippling in her eyes around her tears. Agonizing moments drag on, until it becomes clear that her question will be met only with silence. Her shoulders and wings sink and she sighs deeply, dragging herself to her feet. 

“I am humbled by your unyielding faith in your angels, your Grace,” she mutters, tucking a bit of hair behind her ear and ignoring the pang of guilt when she silently wishes Zadkiel would braid it for her, like she used to. She is about to depart when movement catches her eye—a silhouette emerging from the blinding white light beneath the Almighty's throne. She reaches out tentatively with her aura, but yanks it back at what she discovers. The approaching being has no aura. It’s like an empty shell, devoid of celestial energy, devoid of a _soul._ And yet this feminine creature smiles as radiantly as any angel, hair as red as a turbulent sunset and eyes as blue as the surrounding sky. What possible purpose could a soulless creature serve in Heaven? Her very existence is a conundrum, but her presence must be warranted. If she is here, the Almighty must wish it. 

“Who… what… _are_ you?” Michael asks, and the woman stops to admire her own reflection in Michael's armour. Her eyes drift down to where Michael's sword hangs in its hilt at her hip, and she gestures to it, ignoring the question. 

“May I?” she asks, her voice as melodic as any chorus of angels. Michael is somehow entranced, and instead of refusing as she normally would, she draws her sword and relinquishes it to this vibrant stranger. 

“A beautiful weapon,” the woman says absently, stepping back to flourish the blade and admiring the way Heavenly light gleams on its surface. 

“Did… did God send you?” Michael asks, and the woman smiles, her hand gliding delicately up the broad side of the blade. 

“God? I don’t know Her,” she smiles mischievously. “I am War. My existence is entirely conditional. And the conditions are _ripe_. Heaven will make for the perfect first battlefield. The first of many.” 

“So… this is God's plan?” Michael asks, her eyes flickering up toward the light. 

“Whether it is, whether it isn’t. Doesn’t matter now. I am inevitable. You will fulfill your purpose, Warrior angel,” War says, flipping the blade in her hand and thrusting the hilt toward Michael. “Your weapons will bear the truth of Holy righteousness. With a cut of your sword, a glance of your arrows, you can sever an angel from their grace. You will end it. It is your destiny. All you have to do…” she urges the sword forward. “Is reach out and take it.” 

*** 

“Gabriel, please. I need you here. I need your attention on the battle to come. Are you with me, Messenger?” Michael asks urgently, and Gabriel’s lavender eyes drag reluctantly to meet hers. He adjusts his grip on his spear and shield, his Seraphim wings spread valiantly out behind him. 

“I am with you, Michael. But I cannot promise that I'm entirely present. Some part of me is with her, always has been, always will be. I can’t...” he stutters, gulping back his emotion and spinning his spear to rid himself of his pain. “I can’t promise if we meet on the battlefield... if I must strike her down...” 

“Gabriel, Zadkiel is no longer the same angel you once loved. She will destroy you, if given the chance.” 

Michael’s attention snaps forward when she hears the horn from the other side, their ranks forming opposite the large white expanse of Heaven. She glances back at the horn hanging around Gabriel’s neck, next to the lily pinned at his breast. “You must do what is expected of you. For the glory of our Lord. Now... signal the advance,” she commands, though she can still sense the anguish in Gabriel’s soul. He sets his jaw and brings the horn to his lips, its ear-piercing call forming the ranks of God into orderly lines as they begin to march forward. 

“If I see Lucifer, I _will_ cut him down. You must do the same. This darkness has taken the angels we loved and twisted them into something unrecognizable. A part of me died the day I realized I’d lost him, as it did when you lost Z. You must use your pain. Wield it in the grip of your spear. Are you with me, Messenger?!” she shouts as the thunder of oncoming forces drowns out the Heavenly stillness around them. Gabriel’s eyes well with tears as his grip tightens around his spear, his eyes trained on the nearest of Lucifer’s onslaught. 

“I am with you, Michael.” 

Michael thought she knew what a real battle would feel like. She had trained almost constantly since her creation to become the best warrior she could for her Lord. But no amount of practice can prepare her for that first clash of steel at the front lines. Watching as angels entangle, golden blood spills, voices that had been made to sing God's praises instead cry out in pain. She thought she would know what to do when her purpose was called upon, but instead she just wants to crumple to the ground and scream. 

A force hits her square in the chest and knocks her from her feet. Her eyes dart around frantically but she’s lost sight of Gabriel and Uriel. She crawls far enough from her attacker to draw her sword, as he paces threateningly around her. It is Lucifer, and his grey eyes are nearly black with rage. 

“This is what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it, Michael? Bloodshed in the name of your cherished _God?!_ Well congratulations. I hope it’s everything you hoped for!” he snarls, swinging his sword down to meet hers. She throws him off far enough to take a stand, her sword poised in front of her. She channels all of the betrayal and agony into her sword, Lucifer easily avoiding some blows, narrowly avoiding others. She can remember a time, not so long ago, when she used to spar with him. When she taught him everything she knew. When she would try her hardest not to hurt him. 

“This isn’t what I wanted, Lucifer. I never wanted to hurt you…” 

“Some part of you did. Some part of you always itched for a fight. It’s why you never even tried to see things from my perspective…” 

“And rightfully so!” Michael shouts as she parries her sword against Lucifer’s once more, the flaming edge nearly singeing his robes. “If I had tried to help you the way Z did, you would’ve taken me down with you. Like you did all these angels,” she growls, gesturing to the angels around them who are fighting and bleeding for their cause. 

“I haven’t taken them anywhere, I've freed them. From the oppression of their purpose. No angel, not even you, should be bound by a destiny they didn’t choose. You don’t have to fight, Michael. You could lay down your sword and join me.” 

Michael blinks past the tears in her eyes. For a moment she imagines what her world would be like if she simply surrendered. She could pull Lucifer back into her arms and never let him go. She could sit in quiet serenity while Zadkiel braids her hair, and Gabriel admires the wonderful creations of his love. It is tempting. 

But what is temptation if not a test of will. 

She lets loose an anguished scream as she hauls her sword toward Lucifer. The power of her strike sends his sword flying, though he is hardly deterred by it. He traps her arm between his own arm and his body, twisting her wrist until she is forced to relinquish her grasp. He pulls her forward with the full force of his body weight and forces her to the ground, her own flaming sword poised at her throat. 

“Do you really trust in a God who would pave Her path to glory with the bodies of Her own angels?” Lucifer asks, the sword inching closer to Michael's throat as its flames lick at her armour. She doesn’t even have a chance to respond before Lucifer is yanked back by his wings, immediately entangled by Gabriel. Michael jumps up in a panic, her eyes trained on the sword as Gabriel grapples with Lucifer for possession of it. If what War says is true, that sword will sever an angel from their Heavenly grace, even an innocent one. A weapon does not discern the innocence of its victims, only the hands of its wielder. 

Michael whips her bow from her shoulder and strings an arrow, though she cannot successfully train it on Lucifer without endangering Gabriel. She pulls the bowstring taught just as Lucifer forces Gabriel to the ground, only to be frozen by a heartsick scream. Zadkiel appears from above, her armour splattered with golden blood as she dives toward them. She lands between Lucifer and Gabriel, her Seraphim wings forming a barrier between them. 

“No! Anyone but him, Lucifer, please. You promised,” she begs, her voice wavering and her extremities trembling. “I s…swore I would help you take as many angels as you want. And I will. Just please not Gabriel.” 

Michael lowers her bow slightly in shock. Zadkiel... still loves him. 

Lucifer scoffs in disbelief, pacing from side to side and peering through Zadkiel's spread wings at the downed Archangel. “I’ve tried to explain this to you, too many times, Zadkiel. Gabriel is a pawn, just like Michael. Just like the rest of them. He’d have you retreat back to the garden, to silence you. To keep you compliant. No matter what any of us do or say, they’re all just specters of God's rule. Do you really want to go back to creating a world that you’ll never enjoy? For a God who tossed you aside?” 

Zadkiel's wings drop slightly. “No of course not,” she mumbles, several tiny black insects emerging from beneath the feathers of her wings to comfort her. Lucifer steps forward and shoves the handle of Michael's blade into Zadkiel's hand. 

“Prove it,” he says. His eyes flicker threateningly, and Zadkiel shrinks away from him. Michael once again readies her bow, this time aimed at Zadkiel. 

“Z, don’t!” she screams, her voice nearly breaking. Tears well and spill from her eyes as she steadies her fingers around her bowstring. 

“Z this isn’t you,” Gabriel pleads as he pushes up onto his knees, tears already flowing freely. “Look what he’s done to you. He’s manipulated you, don’t you see?” 

“Shut up, Gabriel,” Zadkiel barks at him as she turns to face him. She readjusts her grip on Michael's sword, though she makes no move forward. “Or have you forgotten it was _you_ who tried to manipulate my memories?” 

“Of course I haven’t. I'll live with that for the rest of my existence, however brief that is. It eats at me, and you know why? Because I love you. I know I hurt you and I’m sorry. But I can’t watch you become this hateful thing, it’s not you! I love you, please don’t do this!” 

Zadkiel's tears stream down her golden flecked cheeks. “Shut up, stop saying that. Your love means nothing to me. You hear me? Nothing! I'm unlovable!” 

She takes a forceful step toward Gabriel, the sword raised above her head as Michael nearly lets loose that first arrow. But when the sword comes down it lands with a heavy _clang_ against the Heavenly floor. Zadkiel is gasping and crying, her face twisted into a grimace of rage as she hovers over Gabriel. He slowly blinks up at her, realization dawning in his vibrant eyes. 

“I knew you were weak, Zadkiel,” Lucifer snarls. He takes the few steps toward her, scoops up the sword, and plunges it beneath her armour and into her ribcage. 

Zadkiel’s mouth hangs open in a silent scream, her hands weakly grasping the handle of the sword as she falls to her knees, the ground splintering beneath her weight. It cracks and blackens, and her wings begin to smoke, sending hundreds of tiny insects buzzing around her. She pulls the sword from her body and drops it, her own golden blood dripping through the cracks to some unknown abyss below. Her wings beat furiously as they begin to ignite with flames, an otherworldly scream tearing itself from her throat as the gold that once framed her precious smile begins to boil. The ground opens up beneath her, and even as she tries to catch herself with her wings, she slips farther through the cracks. Her blood-stained fingers claw at the ground, until some unseen force stops her fall entirely. 

Gabriel crawls weakly toward her, growling against the agony as he throws his aura around her. His golden marks flicker and his wings begin to smoke. Zadkiel blinks through her pain and levels Gabriel with her sapphire blue eyes. The ground around her begins to chip and fall away, revealing a storm of horrendous black lightning below. She loses her grip, but Gabriel is keeping her bound to Heaven with only his aura. “Don’t, Gabriel! You have to let go, you’ll destroy yourself!” Zadkiel cries. 

“No,” Gabriel groans, crawling nearer to her and reaching out with his hand. “I won’t let you go, please take my hand. Please, Z, don’t leave me!” 

Zadkiel’s eyes drag sorrowfully toward Michael, and she holds her arms out at her sides. Her flies whip erratically round her, their buzzing nearly drowning out her voice. “S-zzzzave him, Michael. Pleazze.” 

Michael is sure she can hear screaming, but she can’t locate its source. Is it Gabriel? Lucifer? Or is it the anguish in her own heart that she hears? All she knows is what she sees—Gabriel is slipping closer to Zadkiel as he tries to supplement her grace with his own. 

“I’m sorry, Z,” Michael whispers, the bowstring slipping from her fingertips. The arrow lodges in Zadkiel’s chest, her scream echoed by Gabriel as he writhes on the ground. Michael can feel the bond between them slowly tearing, even as Gabriel holds on for dear life. Zadkiel gasps and her eyes meet Michael’s one final time, before she falls from Heaven. 

Michael stares down at the chasm that has just claimed her friend, her aura lashing out on all sides and forcing angels nearby to retreat from her. Even Lucifer stumbles and falls, his hand held out in front of him and tears flowing from his grey eyes. “Michael... I didn’t know... I didn’t think... God would actually do it...” 

Michael storms forward, her rage filling her corporation until it’s fit to burst, pounding in her soul like war drums. She retrieves her sword, now covered in Zadkiel's blood, and looms over Lucifer. 

“God didn’t do this. _You_ did. You lament being made to stand in God’s shadow?! You will _become_ God’s shadow. For all the Heavenly light that graces Her angels, you will only see darkness. For every joy ever felt, you will feel only misery. For all the love we possess, for every gentle caress, every kind word... you will know hate, and pain, and solitude. You are an abomination of God’s love, and for this I condemn you, and any angel who ever followed you.” 

Michael brings the sword straight down, lodging it into the ground at Lucifer’s feet. The entire battlefield begins to crack and churn, the rumblings of a hellacious storm below. Half of the angels take flight, and the other half begin to murmur and cry out as they realize their smoking wings will no longer hold them. 

Lucifer drags himself to his feet, a deranged smile spreading across his lips as his wings erupt into flames. The golden marks on his hands liquefy and blacken, dripping down his fingers to form long, grotesque claws. He begins to laugh hysterically, the sound echoing over the battlefield and turning to screams when his grace bleeds from his body, twisting his bones and marring his skin. His eyes meet Michael’s as they swirl from grey to black, blotting out every glimmer of light left in him. He takes one final step toward her, and the ground gives way, collapsing along the cracks that spread far across the battlefield. Lucifer’s forces fall with him, their screams mingling with those of the angels left behind, until all that remains is silence. 

Michael gasps as the weight of what’s just happened comes crashing down on her. Lucifer, Zadkiel. _Millions_ of angels just… gone. She can hardly begin to process the grief before Uriel's distraught voice yanks her back to the present. She spins to find Uriel kneeling where Gabriel has fallen, his motionless form cradled in their arms. 

“Michael, what’s happened to him?!” Uriel cries, their eyes watering as they rock him gently. His wings have lost their angelic glow and his golden marks are dull and lifeless. Michael reaches out with her aura and nearly chokes at what she finds. He never let go. Not even when a piece of his soul was torn from him. 

She uses her angelic strength to scoop him into her arms, her wings beating furiously and carrying them straight to the Almighty’s throne room. By the time she deposits him gently onto the floor at the foot of the Almighty's throne, she can feel him slipping away. Is the damage enough to destroy him? 

“My Lord! Gabriel has been injured, he needs your help!” Michael projects up into the vast expanse of light, her own voice echoing back toward her. “Please, Lord. He has yet to fulfill his purpose and I fear… we may lose him before he can.” 

There is a moment of silence, and Michael can feel her own rage mounting. She never got an answer from the Almighty about the war. She needed guidance, reassurance—and instead she got silence. Now millions of angels have been banished forever. Her best friends. She cannot abide God's silence this time. Not when Gabriel lies dying on the ground, because he loved too much. 

She is about to snap when God finally speaks. 

“My sweet Messenger,” She says, the light from above growing brighter as it approaches and hovers over Gabriel, his golden marks so tarnished that they hardly even reflect God's light anymore. 

“Please, your Grace,” Michael whispers, sinking to her knees and gripping Gabriel's lifeless hand. “I beg of you. You… I mean we… still need him. Please. I… I can’t lose him too.” 

“I cannot undo what has been done. The piece of his soul that was lost cannot be recovered.” 

“So you can do nothing?” 

“I cannot bring back what was lost. But I can stop it from destroying him.” 

“Please! Anything, whatever you can do, you must! The… the Messenger has yet to see to his purpose and…” 

“Michael… you mustn’t be dishonest with me.” 

“What?” Michael stammers, blinking up into the light. 

“That is not the reason you wish me to save him. You know as well as I do that any angel could serve the purpose of Messenger dutifully. What is your true motivation?” 

Michael chokes back a sob, and wipes her tears from her eyes. “I have made… many mistakes, your Grace. With Lucifer. With Zadkiel. With myself. I am filled with regret. I know I have fulfilled my purpose but… why do I feel the opposite of joy? I miss my friends. I don’t know where to go, what to do from here, without them. Gabriel is… he's all I have left.” 

There is a moment of contemplating silence, before the light surges. “Well said, my Warrior. I cannot reclaim what has been taken from Gabriel, but I can stop the hemorrhage. Though it will come at a cost.” 

“What cost?” 

“His soul is in agony. I cannot undo the damage, but I can make him forget it ever existed. To seal the wound I must remove the weapon. Zadkiel.” 

Michael peers down at Gabriel, and brushes a few strands of hair from his face. Would he choose to forget her, if given the choice? Would he choose ignorance over annihilation? She knows the answer. 

“Do it.”

**Author's Note:**

> [The song that broke my heart while writing this.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hCrtcVDgCGw)
> 
> Also... I think we've reached the endgame. Pretty sure there will be one more plot update and that'll be the end of this series! :-O  
> (There will be an epilogue. And yes it will be smutty)  
> Just bear with me, the next update will take a little bit, I've been accepted into the Flaming Like Anything Vol 2 zine as a Bureaucracy writer!! So I'll be working on my zine piece and then I'll get right back to this series!


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